


new skin for an old ceremony

by renquise



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Other, smooching the concept of universal entropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renquise/pseuds/renquise
Summary: The scale of Chaos is hard to judge: one moment, they are infinite, enveloping Zagreus entirely, the next, infinitely small, yet perfectly shaped, and the next, they are the size of a mere mortal, just as Zagreus. Most of the time, his perception of them hovers somewhere between the two, perhaps his mind trying to make sense of them without melting. Zagreus is used to feeling small beside his father and Nyx, but Chaos usually looms larger still, as though they could hold Zagreus in the hollow of their cupped hands.
Relationships: Chaos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	new skin for an old ceremony

Time in the underworld is always vague, but in Chaos’s realm, it’s even more so. Zagreus isn’t sure how long he’s lingered this time, watching the stars spin. It’s relaxing, somehow, if he doesn’t think about it too closely.

His shimmering, shifting perception of Chaos is smaller now, barely coming up to his shoulder. Primordial Chaos sitting beside him, dangling their feet into the void.

 _There are two galaxies colliding there._ Chaos says, pointing. _Or perhaps a fish._

“So there are,” Zagreus says faintly.

The scale of Chaos is hard to judge: one moment, they are infinite, enveloping Zagreus entirely, the next, infinitely small, yet perfectly shaped, and the next, they are the size of a mere mortal, just as Zagreus. Most of the time, his perception of them hovers somewhere between the two, perhaps his mind trying to make sense of them without melting. Zagreus is used to feeling small beside his father and Nyx, but Chaos usually looms larger still, as though they could hold Zagreus in the hollow of their cupped hands. 

“I have to ask. What is it that makes me interesting to you?” he asks, feeling bold. He can’t imagine what Chaos gets out of having a jumped-up godling wander through their depths, apart from maybe a vague sense of amusement. “You’re—well. Infinite. What does it matter that I’m tearing through my father’s kingdom?”

_I contain the potential for everything, true. But the specifics of it are opaque. You are very specific._

Zagreus has no idea what that means. “Ah. I see.”

 _Would you allow me to touch you,_ Chaos says. 

“Sure.” He holds out a hand to Chaos. 

Chaos catches his hand. Their hand is cool and smooth, yet somehow formless, unstable. It’s as if the touch he perceives is only a slice of Chaos’s presence: as if every second moment, their form is larger, smaller, entirely different, and any continuity Zagreus perceives in their presence is simply his feeble mind trying to make sense of them. Or something.

They turn Zagreus’s hand over, their thumb stroking over the hollow of his palm.

 _You are very delicate,_ Chaos says. _Are all the gods so?_

“Uh. I don’t know, Master Chaos. I’m a little on the small side, I suppose. I take after my mother.”

Chaos bends to him, running their fingers over Zagreus’s chest, pushing the edge of Zagreus’s chiton aside to linger over his heart. 

_It’s very fast. How strange. You would die if it was not beating, I understand?_

“Ah, yeah. That tends to kill me off pretty fast.”

Their palms curve around him, and Zagreus finds himself held, resting in the hollow of their hands. 

The flat of their palm curves around Zagreus’s ribs, encompassing his entire side. Their grip tightens, just a little, just enough to make Zagreus’s breathing short. Something flutters in Zagreus’s chest. Chaos could crush him with a thought and return him not to the Styx, but to sheer nonexistence. They wouldn’t, Zagreus is pretty sure. 

Zagreus should definitely not be finding this hot. Then again, he’s dating Death and a Fury. And Master Chaos is beautiful. Of that, Zagreus has no question: the spill of comets and flowers and organs from their shoulders, the shifting beauty of their ancient countenance, all of it entrancing.

 _May I ask what it is that brings your body pleasure,_ Chaos says. _You are very curious._

Zagreus blinks. He’s pretty sure he heard that correctly. Primordial Chaos is holding him in the small of their palm, and is asking him what he likes. Okay.

“What brings me pleasure?” he repeats evenly. More or less.

Chaos blinks slowly back at him.

“Uh. In general?” 

_Specifically. I am curious._

Zagreus has to think about that one for a long moment. 

“Uh. I like sticking my face in Cerberus’s fur. I like it when Than rubs my neck. I like kissing a lot. I like it when Meg is a little rough with me. I like the smell of the candles in the hall. I really like the sweetness of nectar. I like when I can help Dusa with her hair, like, the smooth coils of it. I like it when I’m a little achy after running all day. I like being held. I like a lot of things, I guess.”

_Do all gods like such things?_

“Dunno. I have a feeling some of those are pretty specific to me.”

_How interesting._

All of a sudden, the palm of Chaos’s hand feels thickly furred, the smell of beeswax all around him. Chaos bends to him, and somehow, they’re at once big enough to hold him in the palm of their hands, and small enough to cup his face and kiss him, the sweetness of nectar thick on their tongue. 

They kiss like they mean to take Zagreus apart, to see how the red blood of him ebbs and flows. 

_Is that enjoyable,_ Chaos says, still kissing him.

Zagreus pulls back from the kiss. “Uh. Yes. Kind of weird, but nice.” He’s kind of short on breath.

He wriggles into the lush carpet of fur. It’s soft against his skin. He can’t deny that it makes him want to strip bare and just roll around in it.

 _The flush in your skin. Is that also unique to you? The contrast is compelling._ They press their fingers to Zagreus chest. The skin pales around the pressure, then flushes again, because apparently Zagreus’s red blood just shows everything about what he’s feeling, lucky him.

“That’s just me, as far as I know. And a bunch of mortals, I suppose.”

Chaos blinks slowly at him. _You are unique in many ways, son of Hades. It’s very intriguing. May I continue?_

Zagreus considers for a moment. He’s foolish enough to plunge down a hole in the fabric of space, and dumb enough to continue doing so repeatedly even when it rips vitality from him, all for the privilege of seeing Chaos and their endless starry void. He’s too curious, too hungry for new experiences not to do so. 

“Uh. Go ahead, Master Chaos. Please do as you like. I’ll tell you if it starts being too much.”

Hands on him: wrapping around his wrists, parting his thighs, running through his hair. He gasps. The smell of beeswax is thick all around him.

 _Is this pleasurable to you?_ Chaos’s voice, still mild and curious, resonates through his bones.

“Yeah,” he gasps.

The tip of the slender finger on his chest shimmers, then melts onto his skin, a heated sting that takes his breath away, the same sensation as dipping his fingertips into the melted hollow of the ever-burning candles of the house. Chaos drags their touch down his chest, leaving a sweet burn on his skin. He’s breathing hard. 

He slits his eyes open. He can barely perceive the form of Chaos, although he can feel them all around him and in him.

“Ah—Are you enjoying this, too?”

He perceives Chaos cocking their head, as if considering it. 

_Yes. I am intrigued by your reactions. I enjoy the texture of your skin._

“Good,” Zagreus gasps. “Glad to hear it. Oh, fuck, please—”

The hands on his body tighten, and he flexes against them, just to feel them holding him down. 

It should be impossible for his body to hold this much feeling. He feels as though his belly is heavy with the warmth of nectar, as though he drank a flask entirely too quickly. When he dares open his eyes, Chaos is a formless whirl of shapes around him, ever-changing, slick rainbows in the edges of his vision. 

“Ah, Master Chaos—” He swallows, unsure of the air in his lungs, of the words in his throat lacking shape to give to the world.

It feels as though the world is spinning, up and down purely optional, the boundary of his skin fuzzy and permeable. There’s an unthinkable vastness just on the edges of him, and he feels as though he might spill into it, become something else entirely, a hound, a star, a flower—

A blink. The void around him is still and calm. Chaos’s palms are smooth and cool against his overheated skin. He tips his cheek against them, breathing hard. 

_Are you well,_ Chaos asks. Their thumb strokes along his heaving ribcage, a gentling touch. 

“Ah,” Zagreus says. It’s almost a surprise to hear his own voice. His body feels loose, as though he could spill out of the bounds of it. “Yeah. I’m good. Wow.”

 _Good,_ Chaos says. Their voice seems less dazzlingly multifaceted than usual, restrained. Their fingers cage loosely over Zagreus’s body. The close darkness instead of endless void is comforting, anchors him in his body once more before Chaos sets him on his feet again.

He’s a little wobbly. He sits on the edge, kicking his feet into the starry void. 

Chaos mirrors him, sitting by him with their feet dangling over the side, trailing eyes and flowers and galaxies behind them.

They dangle a net of arms into the void and scoop out a starry, gelatinous mass. They dump it in Zagreus’s lap. _Is this the fishing you speak of._

Zagreus laughs. “I guess? That was too easy.”

_You should tell me more of it, then._


End file.
